


Playing the Field

by posingasme



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Big Brother Dean, Grief/Mourning, Hurt Sam Winchester, M/M, Painkillers, Physical Disability, Pining Sam, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-08-10 07:21:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 19,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7835386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/posingasme/pseuds/posingasme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The university track and field team is extremely close. So when a brutal accident leaves one of the runners permanently disabled and in a dark depression, they pull together to prove that family doesn't end with blood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Spin

“You need to spin.”

“I don't need to spin.”

There was silence as the young men watched a few more throws. Each folded his arms across his chest. 

Dean cleared his throat. 

“Don't say it.”

“You need to spin.”

Benny turned to growl at him. “I do not need to spin!”

Sam wandered toward them, sweat trickling down from his hair. He was juggling a banana, an orange, a protein bar and a water bottle. He dropped onto the grass at his teammates’ feet and began devouring his picnic. He squinted, and shielded his eyes with his bottle while he spoke through the orange slice. “Benny, dude, I saw your last set before they called for the 1600. I think you gotta spin, man.”

Dean smirked, but kept his eyes on the throwing circle. 

Benny threw his hands up and walked across the field toward the coach. 

Sam choked down his bite. “What’d I say?”

“Same thing I been saying all season. He just don't want to hear it.”

The younger boy shrugged. “I know he's got the upper body, but he's gotta put his legs to use. He's not getting the distance just using his strength. He's gotta work the physics.”

Dean smiled down at his little brother fondly. “How'd the sixteen go?”

Sam pulled a medal out of his hoodie pocket and tossed it to Dean. “Coulda been worse,” he mumbled through his banana. 

Green eyes beamed, but he just nodded and turned back to watch Benny enter the circle again. “Silver?” he said quietly. 

“Guy from Woodbridge kicked my ass. Senior, Coach said. He earned the win today. I didn't.”

Dean nodded again. 

Benny flicked his gaze up at them, and scowled. His fingers closed around the discus, and he moved to stand at the front of the circle. 

“He needs a back circle spin,” Sam commented. 

“He's trying to push it, not sail it,” Dean responded. 

Benny began to swing his arm, working the momentum of his pendulum, then released it in a powerful toss across the field. 

“Mark!” the Riverside coach called. “89.4,” he added a moment later. 

Dean watched Benny sigh. “He needs to stick to shot. Discus is just messing with his head.”

“He needs to spin.”

“Hey!” Charlie called. “Peanut gallery! You gonna help me stay warm for my next event?”

Sam waved her over. “I'm eating. What's your next race?”

“I'm in the sixth heat of the four by four. Then this beautiful ass is going back home to curl up and watch some Firefly as a reward for not dying in the 1600 earlier.”

Dean snickered. 

“You miss it, big brother?” Charlie called as she stretched beside Sam on the grass. 

“The 16? No. Nobody misses the 16. You do it because the coach makes you, then you thank the Angels every night that you aren't doing it anymore.”

Charlie nodded. “Except the angel in your case was called graduation.”

“Oh, lovely Diploma,” Dean teased. “The only one who could tear my eyes away from that bitch Academia.” 

Sam snorted at him. “You and Academia had a pretty rough relationship, as I remember it.”

At last, Dean looked back at Sam. “Yeah. Not like Benny. He won't ask, but he's drowning, so offer to study with him, will you?”

Charlie frowned. “Benny's struggling? You wouldn't know it.”

“Because he don't want you to know it. Stubborn bear won't ask for help. So do me that favor, will you?”

The younger two nodded at one another. “I can help him with his chemistry if you can look over his papers and things,” she offered. 

Sam agreed. But before he could respond, he seemed to freeze. 

Dean didn't even have to look. He sighed instead, and went back to watching Benny's opponents throw. “How's The Blue-Eyed Wonderboy?” he muttered. 

He knew Sam was flushing dark red, because Charlie began to giggle. “He's dreamy,” she responded for him. 

“Shut up,” Sam said. From the corner of Dean's eye, he could see the man picking at the grass. “It doesn't matter. He hasn't noticed me the whole season. I'm not worried about it.”

Dean wanted to roll his eyes, but he refrained. “Sammy, it's a big university. I can't believe Cas is the only one that could possibly tent your skirt.”

His brother tossed the orange straight at Dean's head, but reflexes saved him. Sam glowered at Charlie. “Don't laugh at him! It just encourages him to be a dick.”

She put her hand over her mouth. “Sorry,” she smirked. “I gotta go get trampled in a relay. You two have fun. Say hey to Wonderboy for me!”

“I don't like you!” Sam called after her. 

Dean smiled as he sat beside his brother on the grassy hill above the throwers’ circle. “This is when Dad would talk about other fish, Sam.”

“Which is bullshit, because he only ever loved Mom.”

Dean had his own thoughts on that, but he didn't bother expressing them. “Sam, come on. You barely know Cas.”

Sam lifted his head to stare out at the jumpers’ pit where Castiel Kladivo was laughing with Gabriel Pike. “That's the problem,” he sighed. 

“You're only twenty, okay? You'll find-”

“What, like you did?” Sam snapped irritably. 

Dean frowned sharply. “Hey,” he warned in a low growl. “We're not talking about me.”

“Maybe we should. Maybe we should talk about how you-”

“Shut your mouth,” Dean said very quietly. “Don't you ever talk to me about Lisa again. You hear me?”

Sam scowled. They sat in silence for another minute, then Sam sighed. “I'm sorry.”

Dean glanced at him. “Dude, me and Lisa-That was never going to work. I knew that going in, and I let myself forget. And it hurt like hell. So sue me for not wanting you to go through that same hurt, by chasing after some guy that ain't smart enough to be into you.”

The younger man nodded. “I know. I don't know what it is about him. He's this weird, nerdy guy, like you keep saying, but I get tangled up and stupid around him, and I can't help that.”

“Wish Benny was gay. I can trust Benny.”

Sam gave him a look that said he thought Dean was an idiot. “I'm not letting you pick my dates for me. And anyway, the odds aren't great. It's only something like four percent of the population that's in the family, and that includes Charlie. So if you whittle it down to males who like other males, it's a depressingly low sample pool. Finding one of those that also enjoys very awkward, freakishly tall, funny-looking geeks that spend all their time on the track or in the library...Odds aren't good.”

Dean snorted at him. “Wow. You're the eternal optimist, aren't you? And I'm assuming you've actually mathematically calculated the number of men likely to fit in your sample size?”

“I haven't done the personality profile bench work, but suffice it to say it's so close to zero that it may as well be a null figure.”

They were quiet again as Dean watched the circle and Sam stared at the pit. Then Dean couldn't help asking, “And what are the odds that I'll find someone?”

“Now that you're out of school and working seventy hours a week in a male-dominated engineering field? You don't want to know.”

“Awesome.”

Sam nodded his agreement. “Yeah. So I'm going to sit and pine over this guy, and you're going to not talk about how many fish there are out there.”

Dean couldn't argue much with that.


	2. Gold

Gabriel was watching him, mainly because he knew it was creeping him out.

“Anyone who says Ana is the scary one has never seen you with a sharp object.”

Castiel glared at him. “Ana is not scary.”

“Sure she is. She's got every male in a hundred miles terrified. But in a good way.”

He rolled his eyes, and wiped sweat from his forehead with his towel. “I have one last throw, then you can go flirt with my sister.”

“Are you kidding? She'd eat me alive.” The eyebrow wiggle never failed to force a smile out of Castiel. “Of course I'm going to flirt with her!”

“One last throw,” Castiel reminded him.

Gabriel shrugged with disinterest. “Make the pointy thing go far.”

There came another epic eye roll from his friend. “Thanks, Coach.” He scowled. “Don't stare at me this time.”

“Absolutely,” he promised. He enjoyed Castiel's sigh as he headed for his final throw in his last event. Gabriel liked messing with his friend’s head, but he also got a simple pleasure out of watching the man throw. Gabriel was an art major, and he had every intention of using Castiel's javelin throw as his senior project. His movement was technically perfect, creating a gorgeous study of human capability, which had been the theme of Gabriel's work and research since beginning of sophomore year. And beyond that, there was just a keen sense of freedom, as though Castiel were about to take flight, which fascinated Gabriel.

Gabriel himself ran mainly to keep from becoming pudgy. He knew he needed to either watch his diet or dedicate himself to exercise, and there was no way he was giving up his candy. So running it was. But he also truly enjoyed being part of the team. He tended to be a loner, but he liked the socialization among the team.

Especially the drama.

He smirked as he caught sight of the sophomore runner staring across the field at Castiel's impressively powerful arms, back and legs as he let the javelin fly. He couldn't blame the poor, shy behemoth. If Gabriel were into guys, Castiel would be first on his list, and he had told him so. That kid had it bad.

When Castiel returned, he was wearing a gold medal, backward so that the ribbon was against his throat.

Gabriel snickered. “Do you always wear it like that to show it to your opponents as you walk away? Because that's kind of a dick move.”

Castiel frowned at him. “What? No! I just don't like it on my chest, and I don't have pockets.”

“Maybe you like looking like you're wearing a pretty collar.”

“Maybe I do,” Castiel sighed. “Or maybe I just like making you wonder.”

He grinned. “Cassie, stop flirting with me. How many times do I have to tell you? I'm not into all that muscle!”

He snorted and took the water bottle he was offered. “Yeah? Better not look too closely at Ana. She's small, but wicked strong.”

“I'm okay with that.”

He drained his bottle of water as he glanced around them.

Gabriel chuckled at him. “He's over there, and, yes, he watched your throw.”

Innocent blue eyes turned to him cooly. “Who do you mean?”

“The sophomore you're stringing along. Yes, he watched your pretty back and he saw you win your medal.”

Castiel sniffed with mild conceit. “I'm not interested in your attempts to include me in your soap operas.”

“He's a cute kid,” the older man scolded. “You shouldn't dismiss him. And you aren't the only one with hardware today. Kid earned himself a silver in the 16.” Gabriel made it his business to know how each of his teammates did in each event.

“Hm. Silver. Senior from Woodbridge push him out?”

Gabriel shook his head. “You're a cold bastard, you know that?”

Castiel hummed with disinterest. But his friend noticed he couldn't help just one glance behind him to make sure Sam Winchester was still watching him with that smitten look on his face.


	3. Contact

“He's got money,” Jessica huffed.

Sam turned to stare at her. “So?”

“I'm just saying. He’s got a lot of money. A lot.”

“Your family isn't hurting either,” he pointed out. They were rounding the track on the side where they could see the throwers, and Sam felt himself slowing.

Jessica noticed. “Oh, come on, Sam! You're already going half-speed for me. Don't slow down, or it won't be a workout for either of us! God, we’re going to have to put a curtain around the hammer circle.”

“That's what his name means.”

“What? Curtain?”

Sam blinked at her. “No. Hammer. Like Thor.”

“Or like ‘dumb as a box of.’”

He was fading off until there wasn't any point in pretending anymore, and he walked to the fence to watch Castiel and Benny throw.

“You're hopeless,” his friend complained, as she placed her hands on her knees to catch her breath. “I can't believe I had a crush on you last year.”

“Walk,” he ordered absently.

She was probably glaring at him, but he couldn't take his eyes off the beautiful set of arms releasing the hammer at its optimal point, across the field.

“He's a perfectionist,” Sam sighed. “Every movement is controlled so perfectly. He's like a soldier.”

“He's weird.” Jessica was walking as prescribed, with her hands folded behind her head. “And his sister is a bitch.”

Sam turned to her finally. “I thought you liked Ana.”

“That was before.”

Realization hit him, and he laughed, and turned to lean on the fence again. “Before she won student council-”

“She's ruthless! You don't see it, but they both are. They're this family of super humans who look down on the rest of us.”

“You're jealous,” he chuckled.

“Damn right I'm jealous! I'm the type A overachiever in our circle! We didn't need these two coming in and showing that there actually are different degrees of perfection!”

Sam sighed. “Do you have any legitimate reason to hate either of them?”

She rolled her eyes. “Love requires a reason, Sam. Hate is instinctive.”

“That is the worst thing I've ever heard! Here I used to think you were so sweet!”

“I am sweet. I'm just also petty.”

He grabbed her and put sweaty arms around her. “That's okay. You're my sweet, petty overachiever.”

“Damn right,” she muttered again. “Get off me. I'm gross. And I stink.”

“I bet he smells incredible.”

Jessica swatted at him. “The correct response is that I do not stink.”

“You don't. And I bet he-”

Jessica threw her hands up. “I'm supposed to be running. Charlie's over there hitting on Jo. I'm going to make her run with me, since you won't.”

“Bye,” he sighed.

Castiel was listening to his throwing coach intently. Sam watched across the field, wondering what it would be like to have the man’s attention like that.

“Gonna join the throw squad?”

He whirled around. “Ana!” How long had he been staring?

“Hi, Sam,” she said. “I'm done with my jumps, and I'm about to go see if Cas wants a ride. Want to walk down with me? I know you're friends with Benny.”

Sam was having trouble breathing correctly. It sounded wrong to him. “Yeah, yeah, no, he is-I am, but-”

Suddenly, Ana’s lithe arm was hooking around his bulky one, and they were walking. “Benny dates that girl, Hannah, the pretty one without a sense of humor, right?” she wondered.

Sam frowned. “Hannah’s just…” What was Hannah? “She's a nice girl.”

“Oh, I bet she is. I didn't mean to be rude.” She smiled at him softly. “And your brother, Dean, he came to the event on Saturday, didn't he?”

It was hard to follow the conversation, if that was what it could be called, knowing they were slowly inching toward contact with Castiel, which Sam tried to avoid. “Yeah. He makes it whenever he can. He was on the team when he went to school here. He used to run and throw. He and Benny are good friends too.”

He wished she wouldn't lean in on him like this. He was sweaty from running, and he knew he was a mess. “He's a good guy to come cheer you on.”

“Oh,” he said uncomfortably. “Yeah. He's great. Bio- and mechanical engineering,” he added when he wasn't sure what else to say.

“Hm,” she purred. “Smart.”

They arrived at their destination before he had to respond, which was probably just as well.

Benny smiled at him in surprise. “Thought your throwing days were over, little brother.”

He felt his face heating for no reason whatsoever. “I'm-No, of course. Discus is all yours, man. I don't miss it.”

Castiel turned to him with curiosity. “You were a thrower?”

Sam’s stomach dropped as those intense blue eyes caught him. “Oh, no. No, not-Just back in high school. I was awful.”

“So you quit.”

A frown came over him then. “No, I…” He looked at Benny, then back at Castiel. “I didn't quit. I just concentrated my efforts on running instead. I'm a decent runner, and I like it. Discus literally was giving me nightmares by the end of senior year. When I started here, I told the coaches I could throw, but I'd really rather just...run.” His voice faltered as he realized he was rambling. This was the time Dean would pipe in and just say his name quietly, and it would settle his anxiety enough to get a grip.

But Castiel was smiling. “I didn't mean it as a criticism, Sam,” he said softly.

The younger man drew in his breath. He didn't even know Castiel knew his name.

Benny cleared his throat. There was amusement in his eyes, but he came to Sam's rescue in spite of it. “I'm heading out, Chief. Coach is releasing me back into the wild. I got a history paper due in the morning.”

He and Castiel exchanged hands, and pounded one another on the shoulder. Sam sighed. What must it be like to so casually interact with someone as beautiful as Castiel?

“Good to see you, Ana,” Benny murmured.

“Say hi to pretty Hannah for me,” she said.

“Will do. You coming, boss?”

Sam cleared his throat. “Yeah, um, good to-Okay.” He followed behind Benny before his face burst into flames.

His friend was laughing at him quietly.

“Shut up.”

“You are one sad pup, Sam Winchester. You sure you and Dean are related?”

Sam was nearly certain they were not. He sighed.

“I've never seen you hanging with Ana Kladivo before, have I?”

“Are you kidding?” he blurted out. “Do you honestly think she would have ever noticed me if Dean wasn't around me so much?”

Benny chuckled. “I dunno,” he teased. “You're a good size guy. Hard to miss.”

“Yeah, thanks. Jackass.”

“You need a ride back to your apartment?”

He shook his head. “I've got to go get my bag anyway. I'll walk home. Thanks, though.”

Benny shrugged. “Your brother would chew me up if I didn't try to take care of his six foot four baby boy.”

“You move from nice to asshole and back again like nobody else I know.”

“Can't help it. I'm cute and cuddly most days, but I can't let people think I'm a pushover.”

Sam smiled at last. “Benny, you are a pushover. But we like that about you. Careful getting home, and say hey to Hannah. Oh, and give me a call if you want me to proof that paper. I had that same professor last year. He's a beast.”

Benny shot him a grateful look. “I might just do that. And...Sam, before midterms...I don't know. A cup of coffee might do me some real good.”

He reached out and squeezed the large arm. “You got it. We’ll take all your notes to the cafe, and camp there all weekend.”

Relief splashed across his face. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. Thanks, man. You be careful walking home.”

“I will.”

“‘Night, brother.”

Sam usually texted Dean on his way home, but today he had nothing interesting to say. Nothing Dean would want to hear, anyway. His big brother was pretty good about listening to Sam's rambling about school, and tests, and Castiel Kladivo, and his flatmate, and Castiel Kladivo, and track practice, and research, and Castiel Kladivo. But he tried to give the poor man a break now and then. Just because he was obsessed with certain things, that didn't mean he should expect Dean to pretend to care twenty-four seven too. And what was he supposed to say? What news did he have?

“I touched the perfect skin of one of the Kladivo twins, and even though it wasn't the one I wanted, it shared a womb with the other one once, and that's good enough for me to dream about for a few weeks.”

And that was why he wasn't going to text Dean. Benny was right. He and Dean looked more like siblings than the twins did, but he was pretty sure they were not actually related.

He glanced at his phone while he gathered his things. Garth had texted to ask if Coach Brick had noticed he wasn't at practice. Sam didn't have the heart to tell him he hadn't noticed himself. He just shot something vague back about how he was sure Garth was in the clear. Garth was a hurdler, and easily the most clumsy runner Sam had ever seen. Why he chose to run while attempting to avoid obstacles purposely placed in his way, Sam didn't know. He was more of Dean's friend than Sam's anyway. Dean had adopted Garth when a few of the other big guys had given him a hard time in his freshman year. Now he was a senior, and yet Dean had asked Sam to look out for him even though he was two years older. It was the best news of Sam's entire freshman year that Kevin Tran had agreed to room with the dorky senior, under the condition that both Garth and Dean stopped hugging him. That had made Garth mostly Kevin's problem, and Kevin mostly Garth’s problem, and everyone in their social circle had sighed with relief.

Sam watched the crosswalk light patiently. He probably should be running home, but he just didn't want to get there any faster. As soon as he was home, he needed to begin studying again, and he had just learned that Castiel Kladivo knew he existed. He wanted to bask in that for just a little while before returning to the real world. He knew it didn't mean anything. Everyone on the team knew everyone else. But Castiel had never spoken directly to him before. He just wanted to enjoy that for a moment. The fact that Sam had been an idiot in front of him...Well, he could beat himself up for that another day.

As the light turned, Sam smiled to himself, and crossed quickly.

***

Marv and Zach had each had about twelve too many. So when the light turned, they were too busy shouting at one another about Marv throwing up on the upholstery. Zach was in the middle of declaring that he didn't have any idea why they were still friends after all these years, when the windshield shattered all over them. Marv shrieked, and Zach turned the wheel, and neither of them was exactly sure what happened after that, except that there was blood everywhere, and Marv was vomiting again. When the car stopped, Zach lurched out of his door, and began to curse when he saw the broken kid who had dented his Beamer. He responded the only way he knew how. He sat on the curb they had crashed into, and passed out promptly.


	4. Fading

Everything was cold and too loud. And there was a lot of tugging. Sam wanted to fight off the intrusive hands, but he found himself falling asleep again before he could open his eyes. 

***

He knew that voice. That was Dean barking at someone who was talking about organ donation. Sam wondered briefly whose organs were being donated, but it was hard to focus, so he just let Dean take care of it, and he slipped away again.

***

Someone kept saying his name. Didn't he know he was trying to sleep? 

***

Everything was beginning to ache. He wasn't cold anymore, and that was a relief, but everything felt wrong. Even breathing hurt. He let out a tiny whimper of effort, and realized there was plastic in his mouth and nose. Panic swelled in his chest, and he gagged, reaching to rip at it. 

“Hey! Hey!” 

He processed Dean shrieking at him very slowly, but the noise stilled his hands. 

“Stop it!” his brother ordered. “Dammit, I will break your damn hands too if I've gotta!”

Sam turned to stare at him. 

Dean jumped back from him. “You awake? Sam? Dude, you awake?”

“The hell are you yelling for, if you think I'm asleep?” It came out as a weak croak, but he processed his own words slowly too, and by the time he had said them, Dean was already out the door and calling down the hall. 

It was a hospital. 

Sam blinked several times to clear his vision. 

Why was he in a-

And then there were two nurses prodding at him, shooing away the only person who seemed to speak a language Sam recognized. “Dean?” he called hoarsely. 

“I'm here, man. I ain't leaving. Just let them do what they have to.”

It was like he was seven years old, facing something scary, but the eleven year old beside him was smiling, so he refused to be afraid. It was silly, because Dean wasn't qualified as an eleven year old to determine what was worth worrying about, and he wasn't qualified now to make Sam think everything was going to be okay, but there was confidence in his big brother's voice, and somehow, that was enough for Sam. 

He was too tired to argue anyway. If Dean was there, and he wasn't leaving, it would be all right. He closed his eyes and faded away.


	5. Phones

Benny had been the first to discover something wasn't right.

He had called Sam to take him up on his offer of proofreading his history paper. When Sam still hadn't called back after an hour, he had worried. Sam was the most reliable person Benny knew. He wouldn't have offered to read Benny's paper if he hadn't expected to be available to do so.

He left three voicemails, and an email, and finally texted to say goodnight and that he hoped everything was okay at midnight. He rubbed his eyes and got back to work.

Garth had gotten a text from Sam about having missed practice at about eight thirty on Thursday, and he hurried to say so in response to Kevin's complaint that Sam never answered his phone. Kevin shrugged, and continued playing his video game. He would just talk to Sam in the morning.

Jessica had forgotten to give Sam his earbuds back, and since she was heading by anyway, she rang his apartment. His flatmate reported that he hadn't seen him. Jessica thought that was odd, but she had to get going.

It was okay that Dean's phone number couldn't be found in the student directory, because Ana had Sam's on the team roster. She left him a voicemail suggesting they hang out for lunch sometime, and then she hung up to throw herself onto her brother's bed. His was more comfortable than hers, mostly because hers was piled high with clothes and shoes. Castiel could clear it off if he wanted to. He sent her a quirked eyebrow, but said nothing as he sat at his desk and tapped on his calculator.

There were two texts from Dean, asking if Sam wanted to do anything that weekend, and one asking if he knew anything about the cute redhead who won high jump at the last track meet.

Victor Henriksen read the rights of Marv Schreiber and Zachariah Skiderik at nine fifteen, while the ambulance took away the poor broken kid they had probably killed. Skiderik had the nerve to say something about their sentence being shorter if the kid lived. Victor had accidentally shoved him into the pavement a little too hard when he looked for weapons. His partner Calvin had smirked at him.

It took some time to identify the victim of the drunk driving crash. A student ID card was finally found. They tracked down the emergency contact information, but found that led them to a deceased father. The secondary contact was a brother, older, who lived in town.

“Dean Winchester?” Victor said into the phone.

“Who is this?”

Victor took that as a confirmation. “Mr. Winchester, this is Sergeant Henriksen from Palo Alto police department.”

“What's wrong?” the man barked. “What happened?”

“Unfortunately, there's been an accident-”

“Where's Sam? Who is this really? This isn't funny!”

Victor took a breath. “Mr. Winchester, we've transported a Sam Winchester to Memorial, and we'd like you to meet us there to discuss-”

“The hospital? Sam’s in-How bad is it? He doesn't even have a car! How bad is it?”

The first call went to Charlie. Dean knew she would take care of it from there, make sure everyone knew. He didn't have the energy to spend on anything other than getting to Sam. That was all that mattered. He just needed to get to Sam.

It was a very long night.


	6. Depths

Sam had always been the optimist. In spite of his dismal statistical calculations, Sam had never given himself over to despair. 

When John had died, he left a newly eighteen year old Dean with custody of his little brother. Dean had been accepted into college, and he was determined to attend, so he had sat Sam down to talk it out. 

“Listen, man. This sucks in a thousand different ways. I know it does. But it's just you and me now, right?”

Tears were streaming down the boy’s cheeks. He nodded. 

“Right,” Dean sighed. His broken heart ached to see the grief reflected on his brother's face. “So listen. I know you know what Dad would say about what we need to do.”

“Suck it up, pull together, work harder, make it happen.”

Dean laughed weakly. “Yeah. And I think we're at the pull together stage. I gotta go to school. You know that.”

“I know,” Sam replied with misery. “You're going to send me to Uncle Bobby or to Ellen, aren't you?”

He frowned. “What? No! I said pull together, not pull apart. You're coming to school with me.”

Sam’s pale hazel eyes peered out from too-long hair. 

“Dude, I'm not leaving you. Not ever. Don't you ever think there's anything, past or present, that I would put in front of you. It isn't like that. I need you to see that. If this is going to work, it's gotta be you and me against the world. You in?”

“You know I am. And we're gonna kick it in the ass.”

Relief had flooded over him. It was exactly what he needed to hear, from the kid who couldn't be kept down by any challenge. Sam was his inspiration in all things. 

So seeing him now, staring out a window with dull eyes...It was killing Dean. 

“Charlie called again,” Dean murmured. 

“Tell her I went out for a run.”

Dean flinched. “Sammy, it's been two weeks since you got home from the hospital. You've got to talk to some of your friends. They're all worried about you.”

“I said I'd help Benny study. I don't want to see anybody else.”

“Dude, Jess-”

“Tell Jess she can come over and we'll do our weekly run downtown. She won't even have to worry that I'm slowing my stride for her.” The voice was full of venomous sarcasm. 

The older man nodded quietly. “I know you know what-”

The icy stare turned on him now, and it stopped his breath, let alone his words. “If you say anything about what Dad would say right now, I promise you I will crawl over there and kick your ass somehow.”

Dean felt tears burning in his eyes. “Sam, I just don't know what to do,” he confessed. “You won't eat. You won't talk to anybody. I've got to go back to work in the morning, or I'll lose my workshop and lab. I got no seniority there, man, and-”

“Go! Nobody asked you to take a leave of absence!”

He fought against the tears stubbornly. “Sam, I can't just leave you here alone. You know that. The doctor said-”

“What?” Sam spat. “What? That I can't be trusted to take care of myself? That I might do something you'd regret?”

“Something you'd regret,” Dean corrected hoarsely. 

Sam’s laugh had once been Dean's sunshine, but this was such a bitter, twisted version that it seemed to make the room darker. “Think I'd regret it?” he snarled. 

“I know you would. Because I know my brother. And I got no doubt in my mind that he's going to get through to the other side of this.”

The eyes rolled mercilessly. “There is no other side! I'm not walking on my own again, Dean! I can barely hold my own weight! What other side? I'm useless. I'm worthless. I'm a burden on you, and I'm an embarrassment to any of my friends. You think I want them trying to pretend like nothing's changed while they're just wanting to get out the door? They're good guys, all of them. Jo would come play cards with me, and Charlie and Kevin would bring games, and the whole time, they'd be trying to figure out how long they've got to stay for it to count. No. I'm not doing that. I'm not. So go to work. And maybe I'll do us both a favor while you're there.”

It was exactly why he hadn't gone back to work yet. 

The insurance covered the cost of the surgeries and the physical therapy, and even a visit from a nurse the first week. The settlement from the suit would more than cover future medical needs related to the crash, along with Sam's tuition, considering that there would be no way for him to recover this semester’s momentum. And Dean still had him on his insurance in the meantime, since he was in college and only twenty. 

But the cash didn't put his brother back together. Not physically, not psychologically. Nothing could ever do that. And he couldn't trust that Sam would patiently wait for him to return from work in the evening. 

Dean didn't truly believe that Sam would follow through with his threat. No matter how angry he was, he wouldn't do that to Dean. But just the idea that his kid brother would sit in a dark room thinking about why Dean would be better off without him…

“I'll ask the university for another week off,” he murmured. “They'll understand.” And they would. Of course they would. They would be very sympathetic when they told him they needed to find someone else. A hundred worries scattered through his brain. No job, no income, no insurance. How would he get Sam the help he needed? 

Sam shook his head angrily, but did not respond. 

Dean sighed, and moved out of the room to leave Sam to stare out the window again. Before closing the door behind him, he took another jagged breath. “Sammy? I know you want to give in. But if you care about me even a little...Sam, please, man. You're all I got. There ain't no me if there ain't no you.”

For the first time, Sam's eyes fell, and Dean felt miserable laying guilt on the kid like that, but it was the only thing that would be sure to keep him fighting. If he wouldn't fight for himself, at least he would fight for Dean. That would have to be enough for now. 

As his foot fell heavy on the last step on the ground floor of his home-their home now-he heard a knock on the door. He sighed. He had been turning away Sam's friends all week, and as much as he appreciated their devotion, he wished they would leave them alone for a night, so he could figure some things out. He wished more that Sam would see them. 

He opened the door to find two figures he never expected to see. The first was the object of Sam’s most recent obsession, the somewhat strange character Castiel, who he had heard plenty about but had never really spoken to. The other was a face he knew all too well. 

He groaned audibly. “Hello, Gabriel.”

The young man shifted the hard candy in his mouth to speak through it. “Heya, Deano. I'm here to talk to you about my senior project.”

Dean blinked. The words didn't even register as a sentence in his stressed mess of a brain. “What?”

“Senior project. Remember those? You built some kind of thing-I don't remember; I never listen when you talk. Anyhoo, now I've got one, and I need an engineer of the bio and mechanical variety.”

He stared at him. “You're an art major, dude.”

“Ah!” Gabriel held up a finger. “Ah, yes, but also a registered nurse.”

“When the hell did that happen?” And why did that have anything to do with anything at all, while his brother was suffering upstairs?

Gabriel frowned. “Dude, we were freshmen together. We roomed together freshman year. Why do you think I didn't graduate with you?”

Dean was genuinely bewildered. “I don't know. I guess I assumed it was all the pot.”

The man raised his eyebrows. “I was getting two degrees, jackass! It tends to take longer!”

Castiel smirked. 

Gabriel sighed. “Anyway, yes, my senior art project. I thought you might help me with it if I can get it approved for research at the university.”

Dean rubbed at his eyes. “Gabe, I'd be happy to help, okay? But, look. Maybe you didn't hear about Sam-”

“Sam is why we're here,” Castiel said quietly. “My father is willing to back the project, to fund it, with full rights to any commercial applications of the research, of course. And you and Gabe work together to design it.”

“Design what?” Dean cried in frustration. 

Gabriel grinned at him. “I hear Sam's not walking so well these days. I've been sketching out some ideas about that. Thing is, I'm not an engineer, and I got no access to workshops and materials. What I do have is a health sciences degree, an RN license, and an unhealthy fascination with the human body and how it works. Or more to the point, how it doesn't work.”

Castiel looked into Dean's eyes. “Do you think we could come in off the front porch now?”


	7. Lift

Sam had needed help learning how to shower. It had been the most humiliating experience of his life. The complete helplessness that came with this injury was devastating. Of all the people in the world he never wanted to see him this way, his brother would have topped the list. And now his brother was the one who had to help him get to the bathroom several times a day. The nurse had come to the house the first week, and the occupational therapist would be coming regularly, but between those visits, it was just Sam and the man he idolized. 

The nurse had praised his progress, telling him that he was recovering better than anyone might have guessed, considering that there had been some time there that they hadn't been certain he would wake up at all. Sam supposed he should feel glad that he was an athlete, that he was strong and used to hard work. He was grateful for one part of this. His upper body would be strong enough soon to lift himself onto a chair from the bed without help. He wouldn't always need Dean for that. 

And he could already navigate the wheelchair well enough for now. Strangely, his fingers and wrists were not yet dexterous enough. He wondered what his old throwing coach would say if he found out Sam was stuck in a stifling room because he was waiting to regain full use of his hands. 

“No more discus for you,” he muttered. “You quit because you thought discus was stressful. Kill to do it now, wouldn't you, you worthless sack?” 

“You quit because it didn't make you happy.”

He whirled in his chair, feeling dizzy from the movement. His breath caught in his throat. 

There he was, in all his gorgeous grace, in the bedroom where Sam had been rotting for two weeks. “Hello, Sam.”

Humiliation filled him. “Castiel. Why are you here?”

“Your brother. He let me in. And I tried knocking but you didn't answer.”

“But why are you here?”

“May I sit, Sam?”

What did it matter? “Sure.” He turned back to his window. “Make yourself at home.”

Castiel sighed, and sat at the desk chair. “Sam, many of your friends are very worried.”

He snorted, but refused to meet the man’s eyes.

“The distance coach said he came to see you and you wouldn't see him.”

Tears pricked at the back of his eyes. “He's not my coach anymore.”

Castiel was quiet for a moment, then spoke softly. “I'm still a teammate, aren't I?”

Sam turned to stare at him. The blue eyes were low, gazing into the man's own hands. Something stirred in Sam's chest, as he realized that just three weeks ago, he didn't know Castiel even knew he existed, was thrilled to know he even knew his name, and now he was here to show support for a teammate, when he didn't have to. 

The eyes lifted, then dropped again. 

Sam tried to smile. “Thank you for that. I know you have better things to do with your time than...than this.” 

Castiel shook his head. “Nothing more important than this.”

The voice was so genuine, so blunt and heartfelt, that Sam wanted to believe him. Without his permission, a tear slipped past his defenses, and slid down his cheek. He swiped at it in embarrassment. 

“Sam? It's all right to mourn for what you've lost.”

The words hit him directly in the heart, and he collapsed against the back of the wheelchair. The tears he had fought against all this time suddenly came fast and hard. “I'm sorry,” he hissed, covering his face with his hands. 

Then there was a hand on his arm, and a soothing warmth extended from it. “Don't be sorry, Sam. Don't. Something terrible happened to you, and you have the right to grieve over what could have been.”

“I-I don't know what I could have been,” Sam sobbed. “All I know is what I'm not now.”

Castiel was sitting on his heels beside him, and he let his hands steady Sam as he cried. Finally, he reached up to stroke sweaty hair from Sam's face with a tenderness that amazed the younger man. “You're more than what you're not, Sam Winchester.”

He lifted his head to stare, as Castiel stood to his full height again. “Why do you care?” he asked hoarsely, in a voice laced in awe.

His obsession smiled kindly. “I'm your teammate.” He squeezed Sam's arm gently. “I'll be back tomorrow. Get some rest, Sam.”

Sam watched the door long after it had closed behind Castiel Kladivo. 

***

An hour later, Dean came back into the room with a soft knock of warning. He found his brother lying on the bed, with tears streaming down his cheeks onto the pillow. It was almost a relief. He lay down beside him and stared up at the dark ceiling. 

“You got yourself to the bed without help,” Dean murmured. 

Sam nodded. “It sucked. I nearly fell twice. Kind of had to roll. It was pathetic. But I did it. And I want to do it next time too.”

“Okay.”

“Go to work tomorrow, Dean. I promise I'll be here when you get home. But could you...I don't want anything tonight. I'm too tired. But maybe tomorrow before you go, you could help me get ready, help me get downstairs, and eat something.”

Dean's eyes closed, and he sighed heavily. “Yeah,” he said. “That would be great. You've lost so much weight, Sammy, and I-”

“Stop. Don't tell me what I've lost. I know what I've lost. Help me figure out what I've still got.”

That was the brother he knew. His own tears came and he didn't bother trying to stop them. “You got it,” he promised.


	8. Little Red

Sam stared at the bottle for a full two minutes. He knew what the occupational therapist had said. But he also knew his own family history. Winchesters were strong men. But they did not do well in battles against chemical dependencies. For that matter, he suspected the same was true regarding Campbells, considering some of the things John had said about Samuel and a few of Mary’s male cousins. Alcohol had been John’s vice, and if Dean wasn't a functional alcoholic, then Sam didn't understand the definition. 

So even though the therapist had told him the painkiller was an essential part of his progress, it was difficult for him to think of it that way. It might help his muscles relax enough to do his stretches. But it also frightened him that he was beginning to ache for the relief a little more each time he took it. So he didn't. Not unless he truly had to. 

Castiel was tapping at his laptop, but he glanced at Sam several times. He turned back to his screen. “You know, there isn't anything wrong with easing your pain, Sam. There's no reason to suffer when you don't have to.”

Sam wanted to argue that he wasn't suffering, wanted to start listing the types of truly suffering people in the world, but at that inopportune moment, a spike of pain shot through his right knee and up to his hip. The joints seized in protest, and he nearly bit through his lip. He could feel his leg pushing out involuntarily, the ugly reminder that his legs no longer obeyed him. He tried to muffle the strangled whimper of pain, as his eyes rolled up and closed tightly, lips squeezing together to avoid crying out. 

His teammate stood slowly and crossed the room in two graceful strides. “Sam? Is there anything I can do?” he asked in a quiet voice. 

Sam’s breath came rushing out too quickly, carrying a voice filled with anguish through his teeth. “Talk to me,” he forced out. 

Castiel nodded, and licked his lips. Ordinarily, Sam loved to watch that. But he couldn't see past the pain for now. 

So he listened instead, as Castiel's deep, sandpaper voice launched into a lecture. 

“I'm working on something you might find interesting. It's a study I'm doing with Dr. Michael at the observatory. I'm figuring calculations regarding the increased intensity of Little Red, one of the great storms of Jupiter.”

The shooting pain began to subside, and Sam lay back against his chair wearily. “Explain what it is,” he hissed. 

For the first time, Sam watched Castiel pinken slightly. “I don't-I'm sorry. You're so smart, I guess I forget you don't specialize in astrophysics like I-Not that...I just mean that I get used to talking to you and you get everything, and it makes me forget you don't know-”

Any other moment, Sam would be laughing at the idea that he had thrown Castiel into a nervous spin. It was so unlike the man to stumble over his words. But the anguish stabbing at his joints did not allow him to smile. “It's okay. Teach me.”

Castiel smiled for him. He sat on the edge of the couch by Sam's chair, and held out his hand as though he were holding a large ball. “So Jupiter-the planet-It's huge. Gigantic. And there's a storm there that's been raging for at least four centuries. We just noticed it in the 1600s, but it's probably far older. Anyway, ancient, enormous cyclone. It's the size of, like, three Earth diameters.”

Sam felt a little relief from the muscle seizure, and his joints released him very slowly. “The storm is the size of three planets?”

“Three of our planet,” Castiel specified. “Anyway, they call it the Great Red Spot. Huge storm.”

“And that's what you're studying?”

“Nope,” he said. “My storm is Little Red. The GRS is everyone's favorite, and it's beautiful, but I'm fascinated with its little cousin. Little Red is picking up speed, growing stronger, while GRS is shrinking. It's up to at least 640 kilometers per hour-It's got four hundred miles an hour winds.” 

At last, Sam laughed weakly. “Thanks for doing the conversion for me.”

Castiel rewarded him with a gorgeous, crooked grin. “Sam? Why didn't we ever talk before?”

For just a moment, Sam was simply a college sophomore with an embarrassing crush again. He lowered his eyes and felt his gray face heating. “I don't know,” he mumbled. “I'm not even sure why we're talking now.”

The tipping of Castiel's head, the way his gaze slid off to the side, it was all so thoughtful and so fascinating to Sam. “I thought you might enjoy some company.”

“Of course I do!” he said quickly. “I just mean...You never noticed me before, when I wasn't...this.” This. This complete waste. This miserable, worthless pile of broken parts. Sam winced at his own thoughts. They struck him all the time now. Little negative thoughts that used to prick at him behind his eyes now and then had become brutal, merciless taunts that stabbed into his brain without warning. 

Castiel flinched as well. “This? Are you a different person now?”

Sam snorted. “I'm the same,” he sighed. “Just slower.” Just useless. Just more of a burden on his brother than ever before. 

“Sam, I'm sorry that you think I didn't notice you before. Sometimes I get so caught up in what I'm doing that I don't see what's right in front of me.” 

“It's no big deal. You and Ana are busy. Important. Maybe you noticed I was there, but why would you? Ana practically runs the student council and half a dozen other organizations besides. I mean, she's going to be president one day. You're the best athlete we've got, and you're going to be a freaking astrophysicist. Why in the world would you care about Sam Winchester, of all people?”

“Senator.”

“What?”

Castiel cleared his throat. “She wants to be a senator. After the Navy.”

“Oh.”

“Sam, I'd like to tell you a story, and maybe you'll understand me a little better.”

Sam nodded. “I'd like that,” he admitted.


	9. Left Behind

Castiel supposed it was a fair question. If he hadn't shown any interest in Sam before, why was he suddenly coming to visit him at every opportunity in the past three days? It was fair, but it was a question based on a false pretense.

“Sam, firstly? I may not have shown it, but I found you interesting before your accident.” He began to smile softly. Very interesting, in fact. He could remember how it felt to realize that the sweet, sexy sophomore was not only gay but had an undeniable crush on him. If he had to choose a moment in time to remain in forever, it might have been that moment.

Sam didn't look convinced. “Really? Because you called me Sal at the first practice of the season, when you were calling us to the line.”

Castiel snickered. “Sal Worster, I think is what I went with.”

His teammate’s eyes narrowed in accusation. “Did you do that on purpose?”

He couldn't help laughing a little. “I'm sorry, man. Gabriel Pike is a bad influence on me. He overheard you say you didn't think I even knew your name. And your friend Jess said I thought I was too cool to bother learning the names of lowly underclassmen.”

“You called her Jennifer Monroe.”

“I did. I'm sorry. But it wasn't very nice of you two to sit and judge me either.”

A slow smile came over Sam's face. “Jess is a little jealous of Ana sometimes. They're in all the same classes and organizations, and no matter how hard Jess works, Ana somehow outshines her. And when I judge you, it's never badly.”

Castiel smiled ruefully. “Being Ana’s brother, I know exactly how Jess feels.”

“Really? Because I'm willing to bet you're a shoe-in for Valedictorian of your class, and you've got enough gold medals to shingle a house.”

It was hard not to love this kid.

“You and Ana are this power twin team. You're both beautiful, brilliant and natural competitors. Most of us aren't even certain you're from this planet. So go ahead and tell me how you found someone like me, or Jess, or any of the others, remotely interesting.”

Castiel sobered into a sigh. “Sam, I promised you a story. So let's start there. I'm not a twin.”

Sam blinked those incredible hazel green eyes. “But you and Ana-”

“Are triplets,” he finished.

“There's another one?” Sam blurted out.

He gave him a nod. “Yeah. People call us twins, and we don't correct it, because we don't always want to tell the story, and there are always questions. But we're a set of three. Our brother, James…” He smiled a little. “Jimmy. Everyone loved Jimmy.”

Sam flinched. “He's gone?”

“Yes. It's been seven years.”

“God, Cas. I'm so sorry! I can't imagine losing my brother!”

“Then perhaps you can't imagine what it was like to see Dean's eyes in the days that followed your accident. Several of us arrived at the hospital when we heard. I'm certain your brother couldn't even remember who by now. I found that I couldn't look at his eyes, because I knew exactly what he was feeling. So I didn't speak to him. Let the others, your true friends, offer him comfort. He barely knew me. I wanted to be there. Ana too. But we just couldn't…”

It was clear from Sam's expression that he hadn't been aware of the show of support from team members in the first two days, when they couldn't be sure Sam would even wake up.

Castiel smiled weakly. “We all came, Sam. You're important to more people than you think.” He sighed then. “Jimmy was an angel. There was never a moment in his whole life when he was anything but sincere and loving. He just didn't have the capacity for anything other than that.”

Sam listened quietly. He was seated on the living room couch, with a blanket over his legs, which Castiel suspected had more to do with not being able to see them than any chill. Beside him was the end table, with two water bottles, two containers of medication, and a package of cookies that Dean was using to tempt Sam's appetite, but which he hadn't touched. Castiel was at the small desk, with his homework spread out, but he wasn't touching that anymore either.

“Sometimes when you've got multiples, something doesn't go quite right, and one of the babies doesn't develop the same way. It's nobody's fault. It just happens. And that was the case with Jimmy. Ana and I didn't develop the same level of compassion, grace and selflessness that he did.”

His eyes had lowered, but when he raised them now, Sam was smiling at him with sparkling eyes.

Castiel found that his own eyes were burning. “I know I'm supposed to see it as Jimmy’s disability. But I can't. He was too happy. Too sweet, too perfect. And a doctor once tried to explain it to me and Ana, that Jimmy hadn't developed the same. And all I could think was that I was the one who was deficient. I understood better, ran better, talked better. But he loved more. He was everything I'd like to be one day.”

Those hazel eyes stared at him with compassion that was painfully familiar.

“Jim followed me around everywhere I went. He was my shadow. And like any brother, I was frustrated with that sometimes, but mostly, I just got used to having him there. Like he was an extension of myself. Kids learned fast not to make fun of him. And most kids didn't anyway. He was just too nice, always smiling. I had to slow my pace when he walked with me, had to slow down everything for him, when all I wanted to do was run. I wanted to run everywhere, learn everything. And Jim...He couldn't keep up.”

“My god, Cas, if this becomes The Scarlet Ibis, I won't be able to handle it.”

Much to his own surprise, Castiel burst into laughter. The growing tension in his chest dissipated. Sam's face was so full of terror. It was endearing, and it soaked his heart in fondness for the younger man. “No, Sam,” he sighed with a sad smile. “Nothing so dramatic. Jimmy faded away. We all knew he would eventually. But it happened so gradually that I tricked myself into not seeing it until the end. Ana had prepared herself. My parents too. They were laser-focused on his comfort and happiness. But me, I guess I was in denial. So I never let myself imagine life without him. I still...Seven years later, I still...I still can't imagine life without him. Does that make any sense at all?”

He could tell by the look in that wide-open face of his that Sam knew what he was trying to say, that he understood. Sam nodded very slowly. “There's never going to be a day when I don't wake up and try to stand.”

The tears slipped out on their own, when Castiel smiled at him. “Yeah. Probably not. There's never been a day when I haven't expected my brother to walk around the corner and ask what we're doing today, and if he can help me with anything. You feel it every day, Sam, that loss, like it's happening all over again. But it's only for an instant, and then you can move on with your day. That world you remember, the one where you were whole and didn't know how lucky you were...That's gone. Grieve for it for an instant each morning. Then make yourself carry on.”

“Will you help me?” It was a breath, a whispered prayer.

Castiel looked into the man's eyes and let himself be pulled into the enigmatic colors there. “Sam, there's nothing more important to me right now. Not even Little Red. Your storm is what I want to study. And I want to help you get through it to the other side.”

“What if there isn't another side? What if…”

He had moved toward Sam while they talked, until he was sitting beside him. And now he surged forward to catch those sweet lips with his own. The surprised whimper from Sam made him smile into the younger man's mouth, but instead of pulling back, he put his hand into that soft hair and dove in deeper. The effect was intoxicating. Sam kissed passively at first, too shocked to participate, but then an urgent hunger hit him, and Castiel felt himself being pulled and caught as he fell against Sam's chest. He remained there for a time, feeling the exchange of heat and touch, lips caressing, tongues tasting, fingertips exploring, until at last he was compelled to breathe.

Wide open. Just like Jimmy, Castiel thought fondly. Sam’s face was wide open, laying bare every emotion coursing through him. Sam was an open heart, and Castiel was beginning to truly love that about him.

“Cas,” he sighed out.

“There's another side, Sam. We’ll get you there. I promise. And I know I can't make you whole again, just like there's nothing you can do to bring back my brother. But could we try to lean on one another? Grieve together, and carry on together?”

Sam was amazing. The past few days, Castiel had become entirely entranced by him. The next words from his mouth made him trip into love unexpectedly. It took his breath away. “Tell me more about Jimmy,” the sweet man said. “I want to miss him too.”

Castiel launched into stories about how much James had loved cheeseburgers, and how content he was at church, and the way he listened to him talk about comets, then compared Castiel himself to one. Every smile he pulled from Sam warmed his heart, and by the time he had to go home, there was no doubt that he was completely head over heels in love.


	10. Reserved

Working with Gabriel Pike was exactly as exasperating as Dean had imagined. 

“Dude. I can't concentrate with that on over there.”

“What? Casa Erotica? It's just for background-”

“You keep saying it's background noise. It's porn, Gabe. Porn. You don't watch porn sitting in a room with other guys. Especially when those other guys are trying to work.”

Castiel shrugged. “I'm used to it.” He continued tapping out the calculations Dean had given him to check over. 

Dean watched him yawn. “Cas, you're exhausted. Go on to bed, man. I can't have you screwing up my triple-check.”

Blue eyes raised to meet his gaze. “I will not make any mistakes,” he said with certainty. 

It was like working with two people of an entirely different species. “No,” he relented. “I know you won't. But you spent all day looking in on Sam for me so Gabe and I could work, and I know you got class in the morning. Probably weight room too.”

But Castiel shook his head. “It's for Sam,” he said, and that was that. 

Dean smiled softly as he watched the young man go back to his calculations and measurements with the same dedicated fervor that he had begun with two hours ago. For Sam. Dean wished he could go back in time and tell Sam weeks, months, ago that one day Castiel Kladivo would be losing sleep over him, instead of the other way around. 

“Deano, look at this.”

He turned, and wiped his hands on his jacket. He found Gabriel chewing his lip over a sketch, and he couldn't help admiring the man. He had always thought of Gabriel as a screw-up. He knew the guy was a genius, but as far as Dean had been able to tell, most of that was negated by weed and candy, and what was left was used for sarcasm and pranks. 

Now, here he was, designing an intricate mechanism, modeled from Sam's own leg’s movements, and he had to admit, it was incredible. 

“Yeah,” Dean breathed. “Yeah, I think that would fix it. Address the problem of bulk without losing the stability. Let me play with that.”

As Dean lost himself in the puzzle before him, he heard but didn't process Gabriel speaking to Castiel. At some point, the television had been turned off, but it didn't matter. Dean's focus was absolute now that he had a promising design from which to create. 

“Look at his hands,” Gabriel murmured. “Look at him testing each part individually, just from feel.”

The white pieces from the 3-D printer interlocked exactly as he needed them to. Gabriel's design was sound. 

“He programmed that with just a glance at my sketch,” Gabriel mused. “Guy's good.”

“And the design, Gabe? Do you think?”

“I don't know yet, little brother. I feel it. We're close. But if it's a flawed design at any critical point, we put it into use, and it could just collapse.”

“Can't we increase the strength of the joint-”

“It isn't the joint,” Gabriel mused. “In the end, it'll come down to whether or not we can make it work with Sam's own muscles. In the end, it'll be about balance and movement, not about strength.”

“I don't understand.”

Gabriel smiled at him. “That's why you're not an artist,” he said in a surprisingly gentle voice. “I've been studying you throwing that javelin for years. I know how important balance is. You and Benny, and all the other throwers, you trust your strength so much, and clearly that's important too. But it's a system. Strength alone isn't enough. You're using your whole body with every movement.”

Castiel stared at Dean's workbench. “He's never going to run.”

“No, Cas. But with a lot of work, we can improve over any other options he's got access to. I've done some pretty extensive research, and braces and crutches aren't going to work for him, not with his injury. They might let him stand for a short period of time, but he wouldn't be able to move. With these braces...If Dean can make it work, we might be able to give him access to his own muscles again.”

Dean tuned in again in time to hear that last sentence. His heart was racing, even as he held his hands steady, and tested the joint. “Maybe,” he breathed in response. 

“Is the design…”

He nodded at Gabriel's aborted question. “The design is sound. It's meticulous. I scanned the blueprints and programmed it into the computer, and it's elaborate, comprehensive. You've thought of everything. I just don't know if…”

Castiel looked at Gabriel worriedly. 

Gabriel swallowed back bitter disappointment. “It won't work. I've missed something.”

Dean sighed and shook his head. “No. You're on the right path. I can feel that. But you might need a better engineer. Someone who's been doing this a lot longer. Someone who…” 

Two sets of eyebrows quirked as Dean's voice faded out. “Dean?” Castiel murmured. 

“There! Get-Cas, where's my model?”

He stared. “It's back in the lab. Do you want me to go-”

“No, just-just come here. Up here. On the chair.”

“What-”

Without warning, the older man forced him up to stand on the desk chair, then grabbed at his calf muscle. 

Castiel yelped. “Not that kind of girl, Dean!” he cried out. “I don't know what Sam's been telling you!”

Gabriel giggled. 

Dean clapped him in the shoulder. “Stand still!” He reached to explore the tendons behind Castiel's knee. “Here,” he snapped. “Gabe, look. Cas, shift your weight off this leg onto the other.”

The artist sobered instantly. “I see it,” he whispered. Out came the sketch pad. “Cas, move again. Put your hip out. Other one. Now straighten up. Is it enough? That's not a lot of movement.”

Dean shook his head, and spat out the pencil he'd been holding between his teeth. “Doesn't have to be. It's enough to communicate with the apparatus. It'll tell it where the weight is centered, and it'll tell it when the weight is shifting. It'll be slow, but I can speed that up with some programming.”

Gabriel's laugh was nearly giddy. “Your micro machines.”

Dean nodded, then scowled and shook his head. “Micro-Those are toy cars, dumbass. Just-just shut up for a minute. Draw this. Can you draw this?”

Castiel sighed. “When I imagined being in a university workshop one day, I didn't consider I'd be a prop.”

“Get up on the table. I need more light.”

“Don't you have computer models for-”

“I need the real thing!” Dean shot back. “If my computer models were good enough, this brace would have already been made and my brother would already be using it. Get up there.”

Castiel hurried to stand on the table, and tried not to be uncomfortable with the way Dean and Gabriel were manhandling his legs. 

There was a giggle at the door, and he closed his eyes. 

Dean didn't look up, but he heard the snicker. “Huh. I brought some burgers for hardworking boys. I didn't realize you guys were going to be making my brother the main course.”

Castiel's voice floated down to Dean's ears in a growl. “Ana, we are not talking about this. Ever again.”

Gabriel laughed, but Dean slipped into his focus again, and their voices became muffled.

This was it. This was how he would solve the problem of balance, of the shifting of weight. This was how Sam's body would communicate to the apparatus. He would still have to pull himself to stand, but once he was there, the braces would be able to react to his attempts to utilize his muscle memory, and with some programming, Dean could make the response of the braces nearly instantaneous. 

It was going to work. 

***

“It's not going to work.”

Dean glowered at his colleague, but before he could speak, Gabriel was purring at her. “Dr. Kali, it may not work. It may not. But imagine for a minute if it did!”

“No,” she responded. 

“Rekha, please,” Dean said through clenched teeth. “I've never asked for anything.”

She turned her eyes to him in a mixture of amusement and annoyance. “You haven't been here long enough to ask for anything. The sheer arrogance of a junior engineer demanding-”

“No one is demanding!” Gabriel put in quickly. “There's no demanding!”

“Good,” Kali responded cooly. “Because I can't authorize use of a testing lab for research that hasn't gone through the proper channels.”

“We're attempting to go through the proper channels, Rekha,” Dean growled. “You.”

Gabriel pushed in front of him and smiled prettily. “Dr. Kali, the grant has already been approved and funded by a private source. It's been designed and built. We have all the paperwork necessary for testing. Please.”

She looked at him with distaste. “Aren't you an undergraduate?”

He blinked. “Technically?”

Dean sighed. “Rekha, I'll serve the review board next semester, as a volunteer, if you'll let this project move forward.”

Her expression did not change, but her eyes seemed to smirk at him. “You're not due to sit on that board for another two years.”

“Yeah,” he groaned. “But you are.” He gave her a glaring smile. “We've all got to work as a team, right? Help each other out when we can.”

Dr. Kali nodded once. “You're right. As a junior engineer, it would be a fantastic opportunity for you to sit on the board. And you should clear your queue of approved projects before that time comes. So go ahead with testing. I wouldn't want this little pet project of yours keeping you from any board meetings in the coming months.”

“Exactly what I was thinking,” Dean sighed. 

She began scribbling on her clipboard. “The testing lab is yours for now, though I can't promise you won't be bumped from it. By someone with seniority.”

Gabriel turned to Dean. “Didn't Professor Cain say that no one was using the testing lab for the remainder of the week? And I swear he said that this project had so much potential that if we could get the lab, he would see to it that no one claimed it from under us just because of seniority or something silly like that.”

Dr. Kali’s eyes turned to ice. “Did he? Professor Cain has no business promising anything regarding my labs. You may use those labs as long as you need them, Winchester, and not because Cain says so. I'm the only one who can make that call.” She narrowed her eyes at Gabriel. “You would do well to remember that I'm far more senior than Professor Cain. Next time you need a favor, speak to me first. If he'd like to talk about seniority, he can bring it up at the next staff meeting.”

Gabriel grinned at her. “You certainly seem more powerful,” he breathed. 

Dean turned to stare at him. 

Dr. Kali nodded. “If you somehow increase our liability, Winchester, I will destroy you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he murmured. 

As they hurried down the hall, he ignored Gabriel's fawning about the goddess behind them, and set himself to work planning his first test of the apparatus that would let his little brother walk on his own again after weeks of misery.


	11. Good Deed

“Sam, please take the painkiller.”

He smiled weakly, and leaned in for another kiss. “You're my painkiller, Cas.”

But the older student shook his head and put his hand on Sam's chest to stop him. “Sam, please. I can feel you hurting.”

Sam sat back on the couch and sighed. “I'll take it in another hour. When you leave. I won't need it till then.”

Castiel was frowning. “What about a half dose?”

He winced with the sudden furious frustration that rose in him. “A half dose doesn't do anything!” he snapped.

The man was silent, and he lowered his gaze.

Sam sucked in his breath. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. You're right.”

The blue eyes he had dreamed of for nearly a year lifted to meet his again.

“I'm sorry,” he hissed again.

“Sam, I'm not upset with you. I'm worried about you.” He put a hand on Sam’s cheek with incredible tenderness that Sam knew he didn't deserve. “Look. We've been seeing one another every day for a few weeks now.”

Here it was. The end of the good deed Castiel had been suffering through. The end of Sam. It was finally too good to be true.

And it was right this way, Sam’s racing thoughts whispered through the tangle of emotions. It was better. Castiel had done him a lot of good in the time they had spent together. But clearly that was never going to be forever. Sam wasn't a child. He had known this wonderful mistake would have to end sometime. Castiel was an angel of mercy. But he wasn't a saint. And Sam didn't want him to be. Sam couldn't imagine a worse fate for the man he had fallen hopelessly, clumsily in love with, than to remain at the side of a waste like him.

Castiel had hesitated for barely a few seconds, but Sam had resigned himself to his loss completely in that time. So when the man spoke, it was difficult to understand what he was saying. “I've grown to care for you so much that I mean it when I say I can feel that you're hurting.”

Sam nodded. He had no idea what Castiel was saying, but he knew where it was going.

“You're worried about the opioids you're on. But you need them, don't you? I'm just concerned that you're letting yourself suffer unnecessarily.”

He frowned. “What are you…” Sam blinked then. Castiel wasn't talking about leaving. He wasn't talking about that at all. “Cas, why aren't you…” He caught his tongue between his teeth, then tried again. “Cas?”

The blue gaze narrowed. “Yes, Sam?”

“Are you real?”

Now they went wide. “Yes?” It was more of a question than an answer.

Sam laughed, and held Castiel's long fingers against his cheek. “Cas, what are you doing here?”

A dark eyebrow peaked. “Here on the couch? Here at your house?”

“Here. With me. Day after day. You're about to graduate, Cas! You have national coaches begging for you to throw for them. Graduate schools are going to beat your door down for your application. I know how busy you are with coursework, and I know how hard you train. Why are you wasting any of that precious energy and time on me?”

Castiel blinked at him. “Because I'm in love with you.”

Sam’s heart jumped into his throat, and he took in a sharp breath through his nose.

The thrower sighed. “Sam, I don't know why you keep asking why I'm here. Every day, you ask. Don't you want me here?”

Suddenly, he wanted that painkiller. He didn't need it, he told himself. But he badly wanted it. It was so overwhelming that he pitched forward and felt all the air in his lungs slam out of him.

Castiel took hold of his arms and held him steady. “Sam? You're breaking my heart. If the pain is that bad-”

“No!” He growled it out through clenched teeth.

Of course he hurt. There had not been a moment since the car slammed into him that his entire body hadn't hurt, unless he was on the damn pain pills. Every involuntary muscle spasm or seizure from his useless legs or feet sent him reeling. And on top of the sharp, intense, occasional pain, there was an agonizing ache that was simply always there. It was in his neck, his shoulders, his chest, his back. His head pounded, mostly because he slept so poorly now, and his stomach sulked because he ate so little. Of course he hurt. He hurt all the time.

But he shook his head. “You don't understand. I want it.”

“Of course you-”

“No, Cas!” he cried. “You don't understand!”

Castiel nodded. “Then help me understand.”

“I hurt,” he breathed. “All over. But I also want it. It's becoming a need, and I can't let that happen. I can't. I'd rather hurt than give in to that. I can't control the pain. But I will control me.”

He continued to nod. “Okay. Okay, I get it. So let's do this. Take a dose now.”

“Cas-”

“Listen. Take a dose now. And then let's do what we do. We’re researchers, right? You're pre-law. I'm astrophysics. Research is what we do. Let's create an actual pain management plan for you. One that includes minimum access to opioids. And when you can't avoid taking one, it will be all right, because you'll only have access to that single dose until the next time you're scheduled for one.”

Sam stared at him. “You think...you think there are other things that'll help?”

“Look, I know your physical therapy hurts like hell. But you say that when you do it, you feel at least a little relief for a few hours after. So let me sit through some sessions, and ask the therapist to teach me how to help you when she isn't around, specifically for pain management.”

“Cas, you don't have time to-”

Castiel's voice was quiet but firm. “Don't tell me what I have time for. I'm extremely good at managing my time and responsibilities. If I ever decide I'm too busy to help you, I'll quit track.”

Horror crashed over Sam. “Cas, no!”

“Damn right, no. Because I can do both. But if ever I can't? You're not what I'm giving up.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “You mean that, don't you?” he asked hoarsely.

Castiel began to smile again, and he let out a soft sigh of relief. “Yes! Why do you doubt everything I say?”

“Because...because what can you possibly get from this relationship, Cas? It isn't as though we were together before, and you're sticking around. You're purposely beginning a relationship with a man who is...Cas, are you under the impression this is going to get better? You say you understand, but I'm never going to be anything but broken. This pain, and these problems, and the fact that I'm ninety percent helpless...That's all permanent! You're an incredible athlete with such a big future! I'm already slowing you down, Cas! That's only going to get worse!”

Castiel nodded a little, and Sam was shocked to see his bright blue eyes begin sparkling with tears. But he cleared his throat, and spoke through his emotion. “Your friend Jess. You said she used to worry that you slowed your stride for her when the two of you ran together. And every time, you told her it didn't matter.”

“It didn't matter. Because running with her wasn't about speed. What does that have to do-”

“Because running with you isn't about speed!” Castiel shouted suddenly.

Sam closed his mouth.

Castiel took a breath and let it out too quickly. “It's not about speed. I feel it when we are together, Sam, a balance I've never felt before. It's the same feeling I get when my balance is right in the throwers’ circle. It's like I've found the final piece of my heart, and I'm balanced again, for the first time since I lost Jimmy. I realized it when…” He smiled to himself. “I was working on a project,” he finished vaguely. A single tear slipped down his cheek, and he blinked against any others. “Running with you, Sam...It's not meant to be a sprint. You're a distance runner, Sam. I'm a thrower who's always relied on his strength and balance. It isn't about speed. In the end, it's always going to be about the distance. Balance. Distance. Not speed. You aren't slowing me down, Sam Winchester. You're balancing me out so I can go the distance. Just like…”

Sam waited silently while Castiel collected himself.

He cleared his throat again. “Just like Jimmy never slowed me down. He made me patient. He made me stronger. He made me work hard enough for two. He balanced me out. And he taught me what real, pure love looks like, so that I recognized it when I finally really looked at you. Every time you ask me why I'm here, it makes me wonder if...if I'm the only one who feels it. If I'm the only one who feels like this is where I belong. And that terrifies me, because I've already fallen for you, Sam. Please don't ask me to go, and don't ask me why I stay. I want to believe that you feel the same way, that we belong together.”

This time, when the spasm of pain stung him, and he had to gasp to breathe through it, there was a voice inside telling him it would pass. Castiel was there. He might not be able to heal Sam. But he could hold him. He could love him. And the pain wouldn't go away completely, but the worst of it would pass, and there would be Castiel, waiting for him on the other side.

“Can you breathe?”

“Talk to me?” Sam pleaded in a strained whisper.

There was no hesitation. “Let me tell you about this man I'm in love with. He's incredible. He's strong, and handsome, and sexy too. He's courageous in the way he faces his pain, and his fears. He's selfless. And I love how smart he is. How he makes me think, and understands when I ramble about the atmospheric conditions on other planets. And not only does he understand, but he asks questions, and wonders about it, and I adore that. He's funny too, quick and sharp. And then he's sweet and shy a moment later, and my heart gets whiplash, and I adore that too.”

He clenched his teeth, and realized he was gripping Castiel's hand mercilessly. He tried to let it go, but Castiel simply held him tighter. “Hurt you,” he hissed.

“Never. Let me feel everything with you.”

As the traitorous muscles gradually released him, his gasping calmed, and he took several long breaths as well as he could. “It's exhausting,” he murmured.

Castiel just nodded. “I know, Sam.”

“And humiliating.”

The man went about preparing a dose of pain medication for him, and he was in no position to argue. Then Castiel smiled at him. “Sam? I do love you.”

“I love you so much, Cas. Thank you for being here. I feel like Dean has kept me alive, and you've saved my life. I don't know what I'll ever do to deserve you both.”

“Love us,” Castiel suggested with quiet contentment. “Just always keep fighting. And love us.”


	12. Cain's Mark

Listening to Dr. Kali and Professor Cain attempt to be civil to one another was painful on any day. But today, it was nearly enough to make Dean's stomach churn. 

“If the apparatus works, and it clearly does-” Cain began yet again. 

“In the lab,” Kali snapped. “It works in the lab. We don't know if-”

“Which is the entire point, dear,” Cain growled. 

Kali’s eyes flared with indignation at the pet name. “The entire point, Professor,” she said with venomous clarity, “is that this university is responsible-liable!-for any unforeseen consequences regarding the use of said apparatus! If Winchester puts this into use outside the lab-”

“It might work, and might give disabled individuals access they wouldn't have otherwise?” Cain shot back.

“It often takes years for out-of-lab trials-”

“The kid’s got talent, Rekha! Let's see what he can do!”

Kali glowered at him. “Would you be willing to put your mark on it? You've got the authority to sign off on this. You want me to do it because you want the liability to fall on me.”

“Rekha, I won't let you get sued. You know that. The liability falls on the university, not you.”

“That isn't the point,” she sighed. “I've got a reputation.”

At last, Dean watched a grin come over Cain’s face. “That you do, my dear. One I quite enjoyed during the time we were married.”

She snorted. 

“Yes,” Cain replied finally. “I'll put my mark on it. I witnessed Winchester’s tests myself. It's a remarkable design. I'd like to see it moved along.”

“You're growing soft in your advanced years,” Kali accused. 

Cain shrugged. “Probably. I spent my youth as an evil man, according to our divorce proceedings. I'm due for a nice gesture.”

For the first time in as long as Dean had known her, Kali smiled. “You were an evil man. But I liked that about you.” Then it was gone, and the sting was back in her eyes. “Your current state of carelessness is regrettable.”

“I can be evil,” Gabriel piped up quickly. “In case that's something you wondered. Just, you know. In case.”

The impressive eye roll from Kali seemed to do nothing to discourage the undergraduate’s grin. 

Dean turned to Professor Cain now. “So you're willing to approve it? Sir, I promise you won't regret this.”

“I've got a good feeling about you, Dean,” the man said thoughtfully. “Like a younger version of myself.”

Kali threw her hands up. “Help us all!” she said, as she strode for the door. “Keep impeccable logs, Winchester,” she reminded him. 

Gabriel grinned and raced after her. 

“That boy is going to get eaten alive,” Cain mused. 

“That's okay. I think he likes that.” Dean reached out and touched Cain’s arm hesitantly. “Thank you, sir.”

“Go help your brother, Dean. And then come back to me, and we'll work together on a final product.”

Having permission to take his prototype to Sam filled him with relief. But he found himself filling with professional pride at the idea that brilliant, globally known Professor Cain was willing to take a chance on a no-name junior engineer like him, because he saw something in Dean that reminded him of himself. 

“Got something to celebrate?” Ana asked, as he stepped out of the engineering administrative building. 

He grinned at her. She shone with the sunlight as she leaned against that stone pillar. She was ethereally beautiful, pale, lithe, strong. “Plenty. Just looking for someone to celebrate with me.”

“Gabe's off chasing his cougar, I presume.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She nodded. “Guess you'll have to settle for me then. I may not be as cute as he is, but I'm slightly less obnoxious, and I can hold my drinks better.”

Dean sighed happily. “Have you ever been told you're an angel?”

Ana laughed quietly. “I'm no angel, Dean. But I'm a competitive woman, and I know how to celebrate a win.”

Angel. She was exactly Dean's kind of angel.


	13. Inside Out

Castiel watched Sam laugh, and he sat back to enjoy it. He was so grateful that Sam had agreed to this study party. He had even gotten permission from the dean to move forward with just one of his classes from home, so he didn't lose the entire semester. Castiel was so proud of him for that.

He had chosen to keep up with his History of the Sciences course, and that had delighted Castiel. Not only would Sam get three credits for a semester that was very nearly wasted, but he and his boyfriend liked to talk about the subject. Sometimes after he finished his own work, he let Sam rest while he read his textbook aloud to him. Other times, they studied together, and Sam broke the silence to tell Castiel interesting bits of what he had read.

The older student had coaxed Sam out of the safety of his habitat a little at a time. One day, they sat on the porch to do their reading. Then he pushed Sam in his chair a little ways down the block, until Sam's mood went dark. They got a little further each time.

And now they were sitting in the park with several friends and Sam looked at peace for the first time in a month.

It was easier for Sam to sit at the table than on the ground, so that he did not have to balance himself. Castiel sat with him for a time, but when Charlie arrived, he was unceremoniously usurped from his position at Sam's side. Then came Benny, who plopped himself on the other side, and demanded to know how Sam thought he was going to pass history without him. Sam had laughed and seemed relieved that no one was treating him as though he were fragile. Castiel was pleased. Kevin and Garth arrived, arguing about a videogame in which Kevin was apparently “Garthed,” and shortly after, a girl Castiel had never seen showed up to lean on Garth’s shoulder. Castiel noticed Kevin was eager to help Jessica with her calculus.

He lay back on the quilt Hannah had brought, and looked up at the sky through his sunglasses. He listened to the voices around him as he ignored his schoolwork in favor of gazing into the heavens.

“Don't listen to Jo! She's not telling the story right!”

“Charlie, I was right there when it happened,” Jess was saying. “Jo has it right.”

“Of course you'll take her side. Beautiful people always stick up for one another,” Charlie accused with more than a little fondness.

Castiel could hear the giggles as Jo tackled her, and they landed somewhere nearby. Soon he was hearing kisses, and groans and teasing from Benny, Sam and Jess. He smiled.

“They're interesting, aren't they?”

It took a moment to realize someone was addressing him. “Hm?”

Hannah had a faint smile for him. “This group of friends. They're interesting.”

He smiled back at her. “Yes. They are. But aren't you one of them?”

The thunderous laughter from a few feet away drew their gaze, but Hannah spoke softly. “No. I guess I never will be. But that's all right. I'm a bit of an observer. Like you.”

He hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe. I interact with them when it seems right. But mostly I just like seeing Sam happy. He hasn't let any of them visit him. And it's fascinating the way their friendships just seem to absorb the new dynamic of Sam's condition. There was a little awkwardness at first, but there doesn't seem to be any now.”

“No,” Hannah agreed. “That's a true friendship. And Sam is a good man. I'm glad he has you.”

Castiel smiled.

“I have to admit, when Benny told me, I wasn't sure I understood. But now that I see you two together...It makes sense somehow. I'm glad you two can make one another happy.”

“He's something special,” Castiel responded. He watched Sam lean on Benny to shift his weight, then continue pointing at his textbook to explain something. Neither man acknowledged that each of them needed the help of the other. For Sam, it was Benny's stability and strength. For Benny, it was Sam's way of understanding and teaching nuance. Neither had to feel embarrassed by needing the other. That was true friendship, as Benny's girlfriend had said.

“And so are you, Castiel.”

He glanced back at Hannah. He had lost track of their conversation. “Hm?”

“You may be on the outer rim of the group, like me,” she said kindly. “But everyone in the group appreciates how much you obviously care about Sam. Sam's the heart of this group of friends. And his heart belongs to you. There's something very special about that.” She stood then, and moved to speak with Bess, who had brought cookies and was setting them out to be devoured by the students.

Castiel turned onto his back again, closed his eyes, and smiled.

About twenty minutes later, he was startled awake when a large shadow covered him. He cleared his throat. “Dean?”

Ana winked at him, then rushed off to talk with the others who were still chatting and studying and flirting and arguing.

Dean sat on his heels beside Castiel. “Got approval,” he said in a gruff voice, laden with emotion. “I'm going to tell him tonight. Want to be there?”

Castiel's heart leapt with excitement. But he bit into his lip as he sat up. At last, he shook his head. “No. Of course I do. Of course I want to be. But I think...I think it should just be the two of you. He should get the chance to try it without me standing over him. I want to be there, but he should get the chance to fall without me there to see it.”

The engineer smiled. “Cas, that's...Thank you. I appreciate that. Let him try it out. If it fails, he should at least have some privacy to cope with it. If it succeeds, he should have the chance to give you the good news.”

“Exactly. He doesn't want me to be his nurse, and as much as I want to be there when he tries it for the first time, I need to step back. He's vulnerable enough in front of me. It's not right to put him in the position where he's likely to fall or need help at least a few times before it works, and have to do it in front of me. If the roles were reversed, I'd want time to work it out and not let Sam watch me struggle.”

Dean gripped his arm. “Thank you, man. For everything. If your family hadn't funded-”

“That's my father making an investment in a potentially lucrative product. It's got nothing to do with me.”

“Bullshit,” Dean chuckled. “Your dad wouldn't have ever known about me and Gabe if it weren't for you. And you watched over Sam so that Gabe and I could work nearly nonstop to get our prototype.”

“I like watching over Sam. Though I do think I should get some credit for all the leg groping.”

He snorted. “You loved it,” he said, and their moment was over.

Castiel laughed. “So you and my sister, huh?”

“That gonna be a problem?”

“Bit incestuous. I am seeing your brother.”

Dean shrugged, and finally settled on the quilt beside him. “I'm the older brother. You gotta problem, you two can break up. I like Ana.”

Castiel scowled. “Well, technically, I'm the older brother too. So if I've got a problem, you two should be the ones to break up.”

“Except Ana would kick your ass if you tried to make decisions for her.”

He had to agree with that. “She is my boss,” he admitted.

Dean laughed. “Guess we'll all just find a way to deal.”

“I suppose we will,” Castiel agreed.

They both went silent, as they watched the group of friends around Sam.

“Please call me if he won't. Especially if he needs me.”

“I will,” Dean promised quietly.

Castiel nodded. “Dean?”

He could feel the man's eyes on him, but he didn't look away from Sam's smile.

“I love him. No matter what happens. He doesn't get that. But I want you to know.”

The voice was soft now. “I know, man. I do know.”


	14. What Matters

Sam was entirely exhausted. He had slipped into a melancholy, which he had tried to hide from Castiel. His boyfriend had been so pleased with how things had gone at the study group, and they had gone well. Very well. Sam had felt like a student again for a few hours. He had felt like himself.

But then the shadows had crept back over him, soaking his heart in doubt and anxiety. The vicious intrusive thoughts regarding his worth and his role among his group of friends came hissing at him. The day had gone so well, but Sam was thoroughly fatigued.

He didn't want Castiel to know, but of course he did.

“Are you all right, Sam?”

A smile forced its way onto his face. “Of course. It was good to see everyone.”

His angel nodded. “But you're sad.”

Sam huffed a tiny, tired laugh. That was nearly a relief. He had been trying to name what he was feeling, trying to assign blame or at least cause, trying to pin down what it was that had made him drop after the pleasurable afternoon. But it was really just that. “Yeah. I'm sad.” He took Castiel's hand. “I don't mean to be. And it'll pass. But I'm tired, and I'm overwhelmed, and I'm just sad.”

Castiel leaned in to kiss him gently on the lips. “That's okay. You need some rest. It's been a long day.”

A calm came over Sam then. “How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

Staring into those eyes was like floating in clear ocean water. Sam couldn't imagine there ever coming a day when it didn't ease his heart. “You take whatever I'm feeling, and you acknowledge it, you somehow give me permission to feel it, and then you make it less extreme. You're an intense man. I don't know how you're always able to calm me the way you do.”

Pride shone from Castiel's smile. “So you feel safe with me finally?” he nudged gently.

Sam put his hand on his angel’s cheek, which never failed to draw him in for a kiss. “I feel safe with you.”

The eyes closed with relief and pleasure, and Sam was suddenly very glad he had said it. “Thank you,” he whispered. “That makes me...very happy.”

“Goodnight, Cas.”

“Goodnight, Sam.” He kissed him one last time, and then put their foreheads together gently. “Sam? You may have fallen in love first, but...but I've more than caught up.”

It warmed him from the inside out. He felt it shiver from his heart out to his fingertips, which were reaching to touch Castiel's cheek. “We still have a lot of things to figure out. You know.”

“I know. But I'm content to do that at any pace we need to. I'm in this for the long-term, Sam. I'm not in a rush. We will figure it out, along with everything else.”

Sam remained on the couch after Castiel had left for the night. He was fatigued, but his brain was churning, reviewing the day's interactions over and over.

When Dean came down the stairs, he had a backpack with him. He sat on his heels beside Sam.

“What are you-”

“Sammy, listen. I need to talk to you.”

If he had thought first, he never would have said it. But it was an automatic response to that look of stress and anxiety on Dean's tired face. “What can I help with?” It was the same thing he had said throughout Dean's college years, when he came home from the nearby high school to find Dean staring at a cascade of bills and paperwork or cursing his way through his literature courses, or sighing at the never-ending piles of laundry. Sam didn't always notice Dean was becoming stressed, but the moment he did, he was willing to do whatever it took to help.

Fondness flushed Dean's features, and he softened immediately. “You can try something out for me.”

Sam wasn't entirely unfamiliar with this request. Dean had been breaking, improving and repairing things their whole lives, and he had tested nearly every scheme and experiment on Sam. But it had been a while. “You got an important project at work,” he realized. “That's why you've been working so many hours these past few weeks. Dude, I'm so sorry. I've been so caught up in myself that I didn't even realize that you had-”

“No, no. It's okay. I'm okay. But you're right. It's important. It's the most important thing I'll ever work on. And I don't think I've ever been so driven in my life...It's been kind of incredible, actually.” Then he shook his head. “But that isn't the point. The point is whether or not it works.”

Sam nodded quickly. “Yeah, of course. What can I do?” He was a little surprised he could do anything at all to help, and a part of him was pleased to still be of use to Dean. He had missed him these past few weeks. Castiel had been a wonderful distraction, and the physical therapy and relearning how to live had occupied his mind and time. But he could feel keenly now just how much Dean's presence added to his wellbeing.

Dean chewed on his lip for a moment, then reached for his bag and began unpacking it. He looked into Sam's eyes, with worry and hope clashing in his own. “Sammy, I need you to try something for me. Please.”

Hazel blue eyes blinked at the objects in Dean's hands. “What is that? Is that…”

“Stability braces. But better.”

Sam’s heart fell. “Dean, you didn't...Dude, the doctors said that with my injury, I couldn't-”

“I know. But these are different. They're new. They're...they're mine. Mine and Gabriel Pike’s.”

“Gabriel Pike? Isn't he a pothead?”

Dean shrugged. “Used to be. But a genius too. Just-just try it.”

“It's not going to work, Dean!”

His brother's eyes flashed dangerously then. “Dammit, Sam! Put it on!”

There wasn't much point in arguing with that look on Dean's face. It was breaking Sam's heart, knowing how devastated they were both about to be. But he sighed with a defeated shrug. “Okay. Show me how.”

***

Castiel lay on his back on the bed. He had pushed himself through a quick workout with characteristic discipline, and had even viewed the videos the throwing coach sent him from his last practice. They were hammer throws, mostly, though there was a series of shot put in the middle. He studied his form with the same level of dedication as always. Then he had read a few chapters in a textbook to prepare for an assessment. He texted Ana to remind her that it was her turn to cook the next day, and their father's birthday was quickly approaching. He logged his meals for the day, along with his workout, and put away his things one by one until it was all perfectly organized.

Now there was nothing to do but listen to his own heartbeat crying out for Sam.

He draped an arm over his eyes.

He turned onto his side.

He sat up and repositioned his pillows.

By the time his phone rang, he was standing in the yard staring through his telescope at the stars, trying to convince himself that nothing mattered on a cosmic scale.

Yet Sam still mattered.

So he dove for his phone when it rang, and scrambled to answer it. “Hello? Sam? Are you all right?” he said in one breathless rush.

The cosmos all hummed happily, and Castiel sank into a relieved thud on the grass, when a tired but delighted laugh came over the line.

He sighed. “It works,” he murmured.

Inside his head, Castiel was already thanking his father.


	15. Hold Applause

Sam stood to applaud, and let out a shrill whistle as Benny walked across the stage. He gripped Castiel's strong shoulder to lean forward very slightly to watch his brother hand his best friend his diploma. Pride beamed from the man as they shook hands. Sam knew Benny could expect a giant bear hug the moment they weren't in front of several thousand people. He also knew Dean considered this to be the one and only positive experience of serving on the faculty review board for graduates. When he had found out he would be the one to hand Benny that diploma, he had never complained about the extra work and meetings again. 

Castiel smiled warmly at Sam. “Everyone heard that whistle.”

“It's a gift,” he laughed. 

“Then do me a favor, and be sure to use it when Hannah goes through.”

“She at the end of a call?” They had broken the list of names into groups of about fifty students who graduated from a particular department or with a certain type of degree. At the end of each list called, the audience was permitted to cheer. Sam was delighted to find that Benny happened to be at the end of his group’s list, so he could be as enthusiastic as he wanted to be.

“She is,” Castiel confirmed.

“Awesome. I don't hear you shouting.”

“I'm clapping. It's about stamina, Sam. We're going to be out here all day, for a quarter of the team. You have to pace yourself. Look. There's Garth.”

Sam waited until he could cheer for him too, then looked back at his lover. “You want to head right home after this?”

“No, I don't mind going out to celebrate with everyone. But I am looking forward to taking you.”

“Home,” Sam finished for him. “Taking me home.”

Castiel shrugged. “I'll take you wherever you like. But one way or another, I'm taking you.”

It was amazing that the man could still make him blush. And that crooked grin he sent Sam, before turning to talk to Ana, left Sam imagining exactly what Castiel had in mind. His tongue curled his lower lip into his bite, and he sighed happily. 

It had been many weeks since they had finally “figured things out” sexually, and yet Sam suspected they would be figuring out new things for their whole lives together.

Sam had no subtly, and only minor experience, but a deep desire to please. Castiel was as intense in bed as in the throwers’ circle, and studied Sam with the same exhaustive dedication that he poured into his physics courses. The result had been…

He smiled to himself as he remembered their first time. 

“You're teasing a lot,” Sam chided. 

Castiel disagreed. “No. I'm learning a lot. You promised I would get to explore.”

“I guess I expected that to dissolve into a handjob by now.”

A dark eyebrow went up, but the smirk of conceit was paired with a gentle voice. “I told you. This isn't about getting me off.”

Sam’s hand reached between them. He grinned at the blinking gasp his touch produced. “Yeah? It could be. I'm just saying.”

“It was a mistake to let you talk me out of my clothes.”

“How could I do this if-”

Castiel swatted his hand away. “I'm concentrating. And I assure you that my self-discipline is exemplary. So don't try to break my focus.”

Sam was pouting by then. “But, Cas, I feel like you're dissecting me.”

There was the eyebrow again. “Don't tempt me,” he snapped. “You promised.”

He had promised. So he simply lay back and let Castiel's hands and mouth explore every part of him. He was entirely unused to so much attention, unless the physical therapist counted, which she decidedly did not. This was far more intimate, far more terrifying. But it was Castiel, and he was safe with Castiel. 

There were areas in which Sam had lost sensation, because of the way his nerves pinched, or the signals to his brain were otherwise blocked. And there were places that hurt to be stimulated. Castiel catalogued every reaction and whisper Sam communicated to him. It seemed clinical at first, and Sam was afraid it would always be this way if Castiel didn't just give up on pleasing Sam and let Sam get his lover off instead. If Castiel insisted on Sam's pleasure, they might not be able to continue. Of course it was disappointing to Sam, but he was far more worried that Castiel would not enjoy himself. If they couldn't get this part of their relationship to work, if Castiel could never be satisfied with just Sam pleasuring him, what would happen to the passion of their relationship? Would Castiel fade away?

Fear forced him to speak. “Cas? Angel, please. It's enough just for me to touch you. That's what I need. Really. Please.”

But Castiel shook his head. “It's not enough.”

Guilt and anxiety were filling him now. “Cas, I-I mean it. You're going to have to compromise on this. It isn't a big deal. I mean, I haven't...I can't. Not since the accident. I can feel enough, but too much of it hurts, and it just isn't worth it. Please. Just let me touch you. It's what I want.”

A deep frown and a narrowing of blue eyes was his response. 

Sam swallowed hard, and let his gaze slip off to the side. 

“You are,” he whispered in shock. “You're lying to me.” Castiel sat back to shake his head. “Why would you lie to me?”

An ugly red heat splotched his skin, and he wished he had his clothes back. “I'm-I'm not. I'm just…” He sighed. “I'm just over-simplifying it.”

“And you'll make an excellent lawyer one day. The point is that what you're telling me isn't the whole truth.”

The man was so incredibly sexy. His arms and chest were perfectly sculpted, powerful, and right there for Sam to stare at. It was painful how much he had wanted this since the first moment he had seen his teammate. Now that the chance was here, Sam’s own body was betraying him. His sigh had a hint of a whine at its tail. “I promise I want to touch you.”

Castiel's face softened, and he lowered himself to Sam's side again. This time, he took his lover's hand in his, and held it against his own heart. “I hope you do,” he said gently. “But, my love, I need to know. If there is absolutely anything I can do to make you feel good, I want to do that, and I want to do it right. And you'll need to communicate with me, or it'll take me twice as long to figure out.”

“I've lost so much muscle, and you're so strong.” He smiled sadly. “God, Cas. You couldn't have noticed me a year ago?”

His boyfriend shook his head. “I couldn't have done this a year ago,” he said in a quiet tone.

“What do you mean?”

Castiel sighed. “I didn't have the capacity to love someone last year. If we had hooked up, that would have been all it was. I was...I had promised myself I wouldn't allow any distraction from what I needed to do.”

Sam watched him lick his lips. “Which is what?”

“Make Jimmy proud.” He cleared his throat, and held Sam's hand just a little tighter. “See...Jimmy was sure I would be a…” He laughed. “A science man. That's what he always said. And he told everyone we met. One day, Cassie is going to be an important science man.”

A delighted warmth overwhelmed the uncomfortable heat from a moment ago. Sam smiled up at him. “He called you Cassie.”

Castiel chuckled softly. “Yeah. Only one I'd let do that. I hated it from anybody else, but it never bothered me from my brother. In any case, my love, I was a terror to be around up till last semester. Anything that wasn't furthering my goals…”

“What changed?”

“I got my individual study in the observatory. The competition for that spot is brutal. And the day I found out I'd been chosen, I just sat down and cried for hours. Everything I had ever put off feeling came rushing out. I hadn't let myself feel anything real from the moment Jimmy died till that day. I cried for hours, then I slept for an entire weekend. And when I came out for class on Monday, it was like I'd been cocooned. I know how stupid that sounds. But I was new. I could feel things again. It was like everything I had done for the last six years was leading to that moment, and now I had fulfilled my promise to Jimmy. And that's when I noticed you, Sam. At practice that Monday, I looked around and suddenly saw faces instead of obstacles. And you have a beautiful face, Sam.”

All his anxiety washed away in the wake of Castiel's story. For the first time, he felt as though he understood. “When was this, Cas?”

“It was December. I remember because I was doing indoor weight throws at meets. Missing my hammer and javelin. But those aren't indoor sports, so-”

“So you found out you got the independent study in December. My accident was in March. What the hell took so long?”

Castiel burst into laughter. “I'm going to be apologizing our whole lives, aren't I?” 

“Yes. I was stupid for you. Completely ridiculously stupid. Dean and Charlie called you Wonder Boy.”

Sam’s angel put his forehead down against his boyfriend’s chest. “Forgive me one day, Sam. The point is that I fell in love with you as soon as I could love anyone. If we had gotten together a year ago, when you wanted to, I think you might have found me...cold?” It was a lilting question. But he shook his head. “Sam, can you close your eyes?”

He did so without a word. 

There came a tugging feeling, and then Sam gasped in surprise. 

“Cas!”

“Sh. Let me.”

“Cas, you don't have to-”

“Sh,” he hushed him again. “Let me. I've got a hypothesis I'd like to check out.”

“Oh my god. Oh god, Cas! What…” Sam’s eyes snapped open against his will, and then his head fell back against the pillow again. “What the hell are you even…”

Castiel hummed in satisfaction, and lifted his head. “Fingers might be too much. But tongues seem to work well.”

Sam's breath was shallow and rapid, and he stared at Castiel with wonder. “I've never-Nobody's ever done that before!”

He nodded. “I've never tried it. It's kind of fun.” Then he disappeared between Sam's legs again, and this time, his hand gently stroked Sam while his tongue was busy below. 

The effect was nearly immediate. For the first time since he had awoken in the hospital, Sam could feel more pleasure than pain-a great deal more. The feeling surged over him, rippling through with giddy triumph. 

Castiel lay his cheek against Sam's thigh to watch his after-quakes. He licked his lips, and let their eyes lock. “Are you all right?”

There were a few faint stabs of pain, but they were merely ghosts. He stared at Castiel in awe. “How did you...What made you think…”

“I listened. Your body told me what it could tolerate, even while you were lying to me. I don't want you to do that again, by the way. You were trying to convince me that you couldn't get off. You clearly can.”

“Clearly,” Sam breathed. “You're incredible. I have incredible taste in men.”

Castiel had laughed at that. 

And here they were weeks later, at Benny's graduation, and Sam was standing with just a gentle hand of support, looking forward to the various ways he and Castiel had learned to please one another. 

“Hey, angel?” 

The man glanced at him again. “Yes, my love.”

“Can you do that thing you did the first time?”

“Only if you'll do that thing you did a few nights ago.”

Sam smiled. He could do that.


	16. Turning Wheel

Castiel had left for the weight room by the time Dean came home, but he suspected the kid would be back by bedtime. It was almost amusing how smitten with Sam the thrower was. He couldn't stand to be away for more than a few hours, even after all these weeks. Dean was beginning to wonder if he was modifying his own home to accommodate Sam's condition, only to find himself looking for a new place when Sam and Castiel were ready to live alone one day. 

That was all right. Dean didn't mind. The Wonder Hammer made Sam happy, and was more than capable of watching over him. 

Dean was cautiously optimistic for the first time in a very long time, and he had to admit that a lot of that had to do with Castiel. Not that he had to admit it aloud. 

“Where's Hammer?”

Sam groaned. “Stop calling him that!”

“Better than a lot of stuff I could call him. Besides, didn't you say that's what his last name means? That why he does the hammer event? Makes me worry what he'd throw if his last name was Puppies.”

“You're an asshole.”

“Sometimes,” he agreed. 

“He's out at the weight room, and he's probably going to stop by the observatory.”

Dean's head went crooked. “You two haven't...in the observatory…”

Sam flushed immediately. It was almost no challenge anymore. “What? No! Of course not! God, Dean!”

He laughed and dropped down on the couch too. “I'm just messing with you. Cas is way too boring to do something bad like that. On the other hand, Ana and I christened my workbench the other day.”

“Dude!”

Dean shrugged, and put his feet up on the table. “How's the project working?”

That was what they had been calling Sam's braces. He smiled. “I have some suggestions,” he said mildly. 

“Write them down,” Dean yawned back. He was still in his suit, but he had toed off his shoes, pulled off his tie and jacket, rolled his white sleeves to the elbows, and unbuttoned at his throat. He was tired. But it had been a great day. Benny's diploma had meant nearly as much to him as his own. School didn't come as easily to Dean and Benny as it always had to Sam and many of his friends. It was always a hard-fought battle for them. But they had made it. Dean had his Masters, and he was a true engineer, with a mentor in Professor Cain. Now he had seen Benny finish his undergraduate degree. It was a good day. 

“I know you know what Dad would say,” Sam said quietly. 

Dean's eyes had slipped closed, but now they opened with a smile. “Good work, son, but the work ain't ever done.”

“Good work, Dean.”

Warmth filled his heart, and he basked in it. Of course the work wasn't done. Sam was still going to need a lot of support, especially now that he was trying to manage his pain without opioids, and he wanted to get back in the weight room to maintain his strength as much as possible. There were a thousand things to work out with Ana’s father's company about patents and production. Dean was still a little too in awe of Cain to speak up much when they worked together. Gabriel and Kali haunting the campus together with smirks on their faces was enough to keep anyone up at night. Ana was committing to the Navy in just a year. Castiel was going to apply to graduate programs, and everyone was desperately hoping he would get placed in the same observatory for another two years. The trial for the two men who had hurt Sam would soon be underway, and there was a settlement and insurance and healthcare bills to sort out. And Garth and Bess had become engaged today, so there was a wedding on the horizon. 

The work wasn't done. The wheel kept turning. But they would keep grinding. 

Dean nodded. “Good work, Sammy.”


End file.
